Parched
by Abby the Band Nerd
Summary: It has been over ten years since Team Magma captured Groudon and Kyogre, and gained control of Hoenn's water supplies. Poor families are dying, and Team Magma is rapidly growing more powerful. Seventeen year old Sean Langley is fed up with the conditions that have been forced upon the region, and he believes that taking down Team Magma is his only choice. AU.


Mister Grayford's body droops over the casualty collection truck. My cousin Katie cries quietly against my aunt Christina's shoulder. She is not accustomed to the people of Hoenn dropping like flies, though she's grown up watching it happen. I look at the truck and Mister Grayford from my crusty, sand-stained window with mild content. He was old, mid-sixties, and lived alone. That meant he had a little more water to himself, not that he could do much with it. It's only April, but he's the eighth person to dry out on the block this year. It seems like nobody has simply _died_ for the past decade. People dry out now. Their lungs turn to hard sand, and their limbs are served on a platter for the overhead Mandibuzz to nibble on. Their bodies don't feel clammy, they're brittle and dry as a bone.

Not dead- dried out.

Summer this year will be brutal. Aunt Chrissy might not make it; last year's drought nearly did her in, and she hasn't been the same ever since. Will she survive another dry season? Will I? Will Katie?

"Sean?" Katie's voice squeaks when she tries to call for me, but her voice is painfully cracked and dry; it's hard to speak loudly with such little moisture in your mouth. "Can I have the rest of my water?" My heart falls to my stomach and I have to tear myself away from her gaze— those wide blue eyes are always full of heartbreak. They seem a little bluer, a little wider every day. I don't know how much longer I have until I no longer see eyes, but wide oceans of sorrow.

"Katie," I almost whisper it to her, too scared to chance raising my voice. "You drank all of your water this morning." I can hear her whimpering across the room, and the look on her face is absolutely pitiful. If I didn't know better, I'd think her water supply was cut off. I look to the floor beside me to see my own bottle. There's a thin stream left against the side of the plastic, and I can see that Katie's eyeing it as well. Without a second thought, I toss it to her.

She zealously twists the lid and suctions her chapped, flaky lips around the mouth. Water trickles from the corner of her lip, but she runs her tongue over her skin to catch it up before sticking it through the opening of the bottle. She laps at the insides with vigor, savoring every last drop that meets her tongue. When she realizes she can't get anymore, she drops the bottle and begins to weep again.

"Why is it like this?" She doesn't have to specify for me to understand, but not understand at the same time. I want to giver her an answer, but all I can do is open my mouth and produce cracked stutters. It's like I'm trying to think of what to say, when in reality I just don't know.

"Things are the way they are cos' corruption stood behind a curtain, and the world just waited for it to rise." Aunt Chrissy's voice startles me; the way she says it is almost haunting. Katie slides down of of her lap, and stands by the chair.

"So all we have to do is knock it back down again? Why hasn't anyone tried?" Katie stares at me, and I look away. As much as I wish I can tell her that she's right, that somebody can just go defy them so easily, I know that it's not that simple. But Katie is thirteen, and she has no way of knowing the complexity of the situation. All she knows is that they're keeping water from us.

"Katie-bug," starts Chrissy. She reaches out and puts a hand on her daughter's shoulder. "If it were really that easy, it'd have been done already." There is a moment where she looks towards the window, and I catch a glimmer of grief in her eyes. "Them other people out there, they don't get any more water than you. They're all sufferin' like us." A look of pure frustration fills Katie's face.

"Then why don't they _try_? Why does nobody try and bring the world water?" She's yelling, like it's going to make a difference.

"They did try. Their name was Team Aqua." A look of confusion replaces her anger.

"I've never heard of them."

"Exactly." In that one word, Chrissy is able to turn the room into a void of unnerving quietness.

We all hear a faint droning and turn our attention to the television. The screen blacks out for a moment before video feed of that ever familiar podium starts to roll. And then _he _steps up to it. It's impossible to go a day in the Hoenn region without seeing his name or his face _somewhere._ Posters line the streets and advertisements are constantly showing on the television. He brushes a strand of hair from his face, and remains there in silence while everybody in the audience gets situated. A man and a woman sit behind him in plush chairs, not averting their eyes from the podium. They're dressed in finer garb than the guards on the streets. Another woman, thin and young with long blonde hair, flanks him. She has one hand curled around his forearm, and an empty wineglass in the other.

And then a simple, yet assertory headline blazons the screen in deep black lettering, and then that_ name_ scrolls on: Maxie Serafino, Head Commander.

"Citizens of the Hoenn region," the sound of his voice sends the crowd into complete silence. He doesn't seem to move a muscle, and neither do the other people on the stage. "Your daily water rations will be decreased from twenty ounces to sixteen ounces. This will take effect tomorrow." The once quiet audience instantly becomes a riotous mess. People are shouting and booing, but everybody on the stage remains entirely unfazed. "You must understand," he starts again, and the crowd is hushed once more. "We need to thrive to survive. For those of you who buy water, the price has increased again." Before anybody has time to react, he raises his right arm slightly. It's bent at the elbow, and his hand sits by his face. It's a customary gesture; he curls his pinky and index finger, and folds up his middle fingers tightly against his palm. His thumb rests over the middle two, and the outside fingers are raised slightly above the rest. Observing the gesture for too long, it starts to resemble an 'M'. But that doesn't matter. It's just a gesture now. _The gesture that lets them know that they own you. _He slowly lowers his hand, and looks out towards the people.

"Thank you for supporting Team Magma."

It makes me sick. He's just standing there behind that podium, staring into the camera as the audience panics over his address. One woman is sobbing loudly, and Maxie turns to the man behind him. He stands from his chair and storms offstage. Moments later, the audience is shrieking, and the woman sobs once more. She then falls silent. I can see Katie cringe as the man sits back down onstage and wipes his hands off on his pants. And Maxie just keeps looking out at the cameras, not even acknowledging the crowd. How anybody can just throw out these death sentences so nonchalantly is beyond me. He's clearly healthy, as always. He has color in his cheeks, and his complexion isn't ashy like ours. The woman beside him shakes her glass, and a man dressed in the same clothes as the guards pours her some wine. The bottle is decorated, and it's clearly expensive. She finishes it quickly and has another serving, but Maxie stops her after her second glass. My stomach twists in disgust.

"These people can casually consume fine wines on national television, and they still refuse us water. Why do they deprive us of liquid plastic, when they have liquid gold?" I can tell by their expressions that my hostility is very obvious, and it surprises Katie.

"Sean, they're greedy. Always were, always will be. And guess what?" Chrissy turns to stare at me. Those eyes seem to be clinging to any last shred of humanity that remains within her; the intensity in her gaze shows me that she's really fighting for it. "It's only going to get worse from here. Listen, boy," her voice is nearly a monotonous whisper at this point. "I remember a day when Team Magma was a petty threat. Their campaigns were seemin'ly ridiculous. We all walked by and laughed— they couldn't _possibly_ be serious. With all their talk 'bout expandin' the land and harnessin' the power of Groudon we just didn't believe 'em." She sighs and looks to the ground. "But they succeeded. They succeeded, and they got a taste o' power. And let me just tell ya, Sean. They'll never get their fill. They pretend they're parched of power when in reality they ooze it."

Her eyes say everything, as they always do. Though Katie and I find it impossible to believe that Team Magma was once out of power, Chrissy finds it impossible to forget. She lived the life that so many of us dream of, and she knows she'll never have it back.

"I don't like them," Katie whines. She stretches thin arms over head and lets out a yawn. "I think everybody should just let them know how much Hoenn dislikes them." When she says this, I feel my heart sink.

"You know you can't do that. You'll end up like Megan." I don't mean for it to come out, but the words escape my lips before I can close them in. In only an instant, Katie is in tears again.

Megan Ferris exuded security in a time of turmoil, especially for Katie. They were absolutely inseparable, in every sense of the word. If we didn't have Megan at our house, she had Katie at hers. And for Katie, a broken down little girl who'd lacked strength from day one, Megan was perfect. But she was a rebel, and we all knew it. She often wore blue and stole water from the guards. And one day, she started a riot in the middle of the town. She rallied the people and screamed swears at the guards, letting them know how sick of Team Magma everybody was. She told them that she wouldn't take it anymore.

So they shot her without warning. There weren't any riots after that.

Luckily, Katie was too sick to leave the house that day, and the news of Megan's death reached us when we saw her hanging over the casualty collection truck.

Years have passed, but I can still see her face clearly; completely lifeless, frozen with the same awful expression forever. She went out smiling.

Katie balls up her hands and rubs away the tears from her cheeks. "I want to go to bed now." There's grief in her voice, and I know that it's my fault. Aunt Chrissy rises from her chair, shaking like her legs are made of straw and her body's made of stone.

"It's gettin' late, you ought to get to bed soon anyways. You and Sean should go upstairs and clean off. Lotad's in the attic, he might be asleep. You just wake him up and tell him you need a bath, he'll understand."

I remain in the living room while Katie dashes upstairs. It seems like only seconds before she comes back down, wearing a long nightgown with her blonde hair dripping. I stretch out before going to clean up.

When I get to the attic, Lotad is ecstatic to see me. He bounds around my legs, and sprays water on my toes.

"Hey buddy," I start, reaching down to scratch underneath his chin, and he lets out a soft purr. "I'm gonna need a bath." He spits at my feet in understanding. I remove my clothing, and I pick up a green bar of soap from the floor. Lotad scurries backwards and sprays water over my body. I shake my head and push my hands back through my hair, and water runs down my forehead. It trickles into my mouth and I spit it out immediately; the water produced by Pokemon is not drinkable. Having Lotad is our biggest advantage. Most of the people of Hoenn go for months without bathing, and we can bathe daily. I lather up with the soap, and after I've cleaned my skin, I step away from our makeshift shower.

"Thanks buddy." I smile at the Pokemon before throwing on a pair of slightly dirty faded red pajamas and heading to my room. When I shut the door behind me, I feel the overwhelming urge to smash my fist into the wall and scream. People are suffering. Children are being born into this world, only to rapidly approach choosing between dying or pledging themselves with the organization in charge of the killing. All of this cruelty still exists, and nothing's being done.

_Katie's right._ I climb into bed and pull my covers over my body, shifting to lay on my side. I shut my eyes, and start to drift off. _It's been too long since somebody's tried to stop them._

* * *

**Author's Note: Hi everyone! So, a while ago I ran the idea for this story by my wonderful and super talented friend (Thechinskyguy. I'm serious, go read his stuff. You'll love it) and we ended up really liking it, so he convinced me to write it. And so, readers, this story is my main priority. For those of you following Young and Beautiful, I really hate to say it, but it's currently on hiatus. Major thanks to Thechinskyguy for all of your help, I wouldn't ever get any writing done without you haha. **


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